I didn’t write one of these last year

As is my annual pseudo-tradition, I set out again this year to make an end-of-the-year mix. I think this is the 17th time I’ve put together a playlist at the end of the year, and maybe the 6–8th time that I’ve actually mixed it.

Come each November, this activity is something I truly look forward to. The weather starts to turn, the holiday expectations ramp up, and I find myself eager to hunker down and shut out the world (a bit) with headphones. But, and just like last year, come January it starts to feel like the world around me is falling apart and it starts to feel hard and pointless to finish.

So I didn’t write one of these ‘reflections’ last year, but I did publish a mix. Last year I snuck it out on January 25th, shared the link with a few folks, and moved on. Trump took office. The world looked bleak.

Here we are almost a year later, and I can’t say the situation looks any brighter. If the Gregorian calendar is destined to repeat itself, so seems everything else. Is life just one big turntable platter, slowly skipping and repeating the same verse over and over again as the needle dulls?

I don’t know. I’m not sure what to tell you. Last year I started the mix out with something akin to a klaxon, I remember choosing it because I felt like it signaled the distress I was feeling at the time.

As I started this mix in early December, I chose a soaring tremolo of keys and strings, hoping it would bring back some life that I felt was being taken from us as we continue to slide into living under fascism. But after breaking through the holidays only to barrel head first into “Operation Metro Surge”, well I just don’t know if a single track from Djrum is going to be enough.

As Carter’s current nuzzling communicate his demands for snuggles and attention, I too am begging for snuggles and warmth. I’m begging for stillness, for peace. I’m begging to be reconnected. I’m begging to be brought back to a place and time that feels simple and clear, where the future doesn’t look so bleak.

I’m certain that things will shift again this year, both slowly and suddenly, as more scratches appear on the surface of this collective vinyl record where we’re all just trying to find our groove. I’m certain we can continue to resist, and I hope we also find ways to persist and thrive in amongst the chaos of a new world wanting to be born.

I’ll conclude with a bout of gratitude for all the people and community that has helped me survive the last year. My friends who surround me, include me, help me feel less alone. My family (chosen and otherwise) who care for me. My colleagues who help me find friendship and purpose in my work. And everyone in my neighborhoods and extended cities, most of whom I do not know, but I see put their all into each and every day. Y’all are the inspiration that I’m going to try to align with in 2026.